


Batter Up

by Wingstar102



Category: NCIS
Genre: Broke My Brain, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, NFA Challenge Response, No Foam Was Harmed In The Making Of This Fic, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingstar102/pseuds/Wingstar102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psychiatrists don't always have the most orthodox suggestions for conflict resolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batter Up

Batter Up

~~~

He was ready with a permanent solution when they started their crap this time.

For years Tim and Tony, like brothers with too much to prove to a stern parent, fought. One-upmanship, showing off, pranks, razzing and so on. The head-slaps could only quell their antics for so long before they were back at it again and, loath as he was to admit it, their heads just kept getting harder as time went by. Starting to hurt his hand, if he wanted to be honest with himself.

After the last serious - well, as serious as it ever got - argument between the two men, Gibbs finally broke down and found someone who could possibly help. God knows, Ducky’s advice to sit them down and make them talk it out rarely ever worked, and the only time it did was when they were working a case.

Luck was with him though. Doc Cranston had picked up the phone with the first ring despite the late hour and, once Gibbs explained his dilemma, she didn’t disappoint. The method, while unorthodox, was exactly what they both needed and something Gibbs could get behind.

Now, a few weeks after that fed-up phone call and the “special equipment” he’d bought for just the purpose, as soon as they started up, Gibbs was already barking. “Hey!” Both jumped apart like guilty children, heads whipping around to look at Gibbs almost in the same instant. “You two, training room.” When neither moved, he pulled out his best Gunny voice, the one that never failed to make people do what he wanted. “Now!”

Sure enough, _that_ got him the reaction he wanted immediately. Scurrying to and entering the elevator like a welding torch was being set to their asses, he waited just long enough to be sure McGee and DiNozzo were actually going to the subbasement before reaching for the bag that he’d wedged between his desk and cubicle wall weeks before and heading over to the lift himself. Flashing a self-satisfied smirk to Ziva, who was just coming around the corner from the conference rooms, Gibbs slipped inside the car and punched the button for the subbasement, knowing Ziva would become curious of his expression and follow down using the stairs.

He knew he was right as he caught a glance of her olive-toned skin right as he stepped out of the elevator, but his mind, feet and eyes were already taking him into the Headquarters training room, her falling in half a step behind him, and to his two arguing Agents. Gibbs let them fight in the empty room for a moment longer, taking the time to pull his “equipment” out of the bag and lean them against the edge of the boxing ring’s curtain before letting loose an ear-piercing whistle. The deafening silence and the two wide sets green eyes snapping to his spot was completely gratifying.

“Hell’s wrong with you two?” Blank looks were all he got, so he continued on without a real pause, not wanting to waste the time. “Sick of you bickering like a couple of five year olds. Gonna stay here until you two sort it out.”

“But Boss, I didn’t even start -”

Bright green eyes narrowed and shot a glare at DiNozzo before turning beseechingly back to Gibbs. “I was only trying to explain -”

Tony guffawed. “As Senior Field Agent, I don’t need you, Probie, to -”

Tim gave a hard huff and rolled his eyes. “Look, the new protocol states -”

Sounding another sharp whistle, Gibbs waved for both men to come close to him and then motioned to the ring. “In there.”

“What?” The slightly shocked and confused exclamation from both of her friends caused Ziva to snickered from where she’d stayed in the doorway.

A raised eyebrow and a vague twitch of Gibbs’ hand promised another hard head-slap was coming if they didn’t comply, so, with a quick scramble, Tim and Tony were finally facing each other in the ring. Gibbs didn’t hesitate to hand them each the last thing either of them expected.

A foam bat.

More specifically, a foam cylinder covering a three foot piece of PVC in the most _violent_ shade of purple any of them had ever seen. Tony gave their boss a nonplussed look. “The hell are we supposed to do with these things?” Turning to give the bat the same look he’d just given Gibbs, he said, “I don’t even know what this thing is.”

Chuckling to himself, Gibbs gave the instructions. “You, DiNozzo, are going to whack McGee with that bat, and McGee, you’re going to whack DiNozzo. And you’re going to keep going until you’re both done.”

Tony snickered. “Very _First Wives’ Club_ Boss.”

“Boss, if you want us to fight, we could just get gloves instead of this… this…” At a loss, Tim just flicked his free hand at the bat.

“Nope, can’t have you too injured to work.” 

“But -”

The bat to the side of Tim’s head brought his protest short. “Come on Probie. Sooner we get this done, the sooner he’ll let us out of here.”

As Tim let loose his first swing with the horrendously colored bit of foam-covered plastic, Ziva stepped up next to Gibbs. “How do you think this will end?”

Laughing at the sudden flurry of blows his Agents were trading, Gibbs replied, “I think they’ll just give it up as pointless pretty fast.”

“I will bet you otherwise.” Tilting her head a little, Ziva snorted at Tim, who was trying to bash Tony‘s brains in with overhand swings. “I think they will carry on until exhausted.”

“Bet you twenty that they figure out this is a waste of energy first. But remember, I always win my bets.”

Ziva grinned, watching her friends trade another volley of hits. “You are on.”

~~~

End


End file.
